A Piece of History
On a stale Tuesday, I stumbled through the white haze towards the Minnesota Marine Art Museum. The rustic cabin, speckled with white flowers that shivered in the sharp wind, was a small piece of warmth amidst the industrial steel factories that surrounded it. I opened one of the doors a crack and snuck inside, afraid that my entrance would disrupt the peace that I could sense from the outside.
Although I had resided in Winona, Minnesota for a few months, I never allowed myself the time to drive about ten minutes to the cozy museum on the edge of the Mississippi River. My first year at Winona State University had claimed a significant portion of my time, and anything that was left was given to my constant anxiety so that I could panic over assignments that might not even exist. Even after my grandmother, an aesthete who has traveled the world for decades for the sake of appreciating art, praised the museum’s collection and implored me to experience it for myself, I was never able to convince myself to go. I simply couldn’t find the time to appreciate a landmark of the town that I would be staying in for the next few years.
The snow wedged underneath my boots crackled as I shuffled my way inside the building. Vaulted ceilings with skylights, whispers of piano, and the gift shop, of course, emitted the same warmth that I had felt outside; the only difference was that it was actually warm inside. Other students, some in groups and some alone like me, milled about and gave me a sense of security. I searched around the lobby, looking for a place to start my self-guided tour, and decided on the hallway closest to me. I curiously walked down it, the squeaking of my boots echoing all the way.
Dozens of photographs, paintings, and portraits later, I found myself standing in front of two doors of gold-framed glass like they were the gates to modern heaven. From what I could see of the vast hall that lay behind them, no one was inside marveling at the troves of artwork it contained. I clutched a golden handle and pushed, waiting for alarms to start ringing. Luckily, nothing happened, and I stepped in. Paintings with colors bold enough to reach out and grasp me were set in ornate frames hung on the navy blue walls. Illustrious hardwood floors echoed every step, making my presence known for me. An elderly security guard sat a few feet away typing loudly, her keyboard clacks masking the echoes of my boots. It was only when she paused that she noticed she wasn’t alone anymore and then resumed her noise. As I made my way in, I noticed a lone velvet rope guarding a piece of art against the ravenous crowd that didn’t exist. My curiosity piqued, and I gently walked towards it.
I promptly found myself standing two feet in front of Washington Crossing the Delaware, one of the most patriotic pieces of art in American history, with only a red stanchion separating us. What was it doing here in front of me? According to the plaque beside it, it was in the west wing of the White House for over thirty-five years before it was sold to the museum. My mind struggled to imagine how many presidents, politicians, and people had experienced what I was experiencing then. Who else had been overwhelmed by the history that was right in front of them? As these questions inhabited my mind, my eyes scoured every inch of the painting, soaking up every brushstroke. Would I ever be this close to this painting ever again? Maybe not, so I had to take this opportunity to see every painstaking detail Emanuel Leutze, the artist behind this monument, put into it. I noticed how the morning sky seemed to be glowing and how George Washington and his army were almost shadows. Did Leutze do this on purpose, possibly to symbolize a brighter future for America? From what I’ve learned in every art class, the answer would be yes; everything in a painting has some kind of meaning behind it. Even if it wasn’t the meaning Leutze intended for me to find when he created this masterpiece, I found meaning standing in front of it, one hundred and sixty-eight years later.
After some time, my eyes wandered over to the historical plaque which I briefly began to read before I understood what exactly was in front of me. It told me the basics: Emanuel Leutze, a German-American artist, painted his rendition of Washington Crossing the Delaware in 1851. For something which I would later find out to have such great history, the plaque was disappointingly short. Unfortunately, the basics didn’t satisfy me, so if I wanted to learn more, I was going to have to do some research of my own.
Amazingly, this painting has even more history to offer than just what I learned in U.S. history classes. After Germany was defeated in the Revolutions of 1848, a series of political upheavals throughout Europe, Leutze began the first version of this painting in 1949 in an attempt to lift the spirits of the German people. Unfortunately, the first version of Washington Crossing the Delaware was damaged in 1850 after a fire broke out in Leutze’s Düsseldorf studio. Although it was restored and placed in the Bremen Kunsthalle, it was destroyed during a bombing raid in 1942. Shortly after his first version was damaged, Leutze began the painting that would eventually be the one that I would stand in front of in Winona. However, the first city it was displayed in was New York City after it was completed in 1851. The next stop for the revolutionary painting was the Rotunda of the National Capital in Washington D.C. where it was used to support the Union Cause and the abolition of slavery during the Civil War. After the defeat of the Confederacy in 1865, the painting was purchased by John S. Kennedy and once again sent to New York. The painting was donated to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1897 and remained there until 1950. On the move once again, the masterpiece was sent to the Dallas Art Museum in Texas for a brief period before traveling to Pennsylvania. There, at Washington Crossing State Park, Washington Crossing the Delaware made its home until 1970 when it was again sent back to New York. The painting was then loaned to the White House after a private collector purchased the painting until it was acquired by Bob Kierlin and Mary Burrichter, founders of the Minnesota Marine Art Museum. The piece of American history was unveiled for the art and history lovers of Winona on March 22, 2015, one hundred and sixty-five years after Leutze started it.
It was only after I finished researching the work of art that the substantial amount of history behind it struck me. I am only one set of eyes out of the millions that had studied Leutze’s brilliant painting. I am only one mind out of the millions that were inspired by the amount of meticulous detail. Although I am only one person, I am now one of the millions that are engrained in the history of Washington Crossing the Delaware. Likewise, it is only one piece of art out of the millions that are engrained in my history.
I left the museum shortly afterward, but not before picking up a postcard with an image of the painting on it to send to my grandmother. However, I ended up never sending that postcard. Instead, it’s taped without a frame on the wall above my desk. If I could find Washington Crossing the Delaware here, in Winona, of all of the other big cities and small towns in America, what other treasures could I find here? What other treasures could I find anywhere else but here? I intend to seek out those treasures for as long as I remain here. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even find another piece of art for the collection on my wall and in my history.
